Cruel King (Royal Elite 0)

The junior kids jab each other, suppressing laughter and probably taking pictures.

My fists clench in the cloth as a hot, scalding wave rolls over me.

I don’t care if Levi did it or if someone else did it on his behalf, but I’m done shrinking back.

He pulled me out of my invisibility cave and he’ll regret every second of it.

If he wants a battle, I’m going to give him a bloody war.

11

Levi

You don’t have long. I’m coming for you.

* * *

I step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my midsection and dry my hair with the one around my neck.

Since today’s practice was hardcore, I expected the guys to be planning the best way to party and shag. I’m surprised to find them all gathered in front of my locker.

“He’ll flip,” Xander whistles.

“No shit.” Sean, the goalkeeper, stretches an arm over the locker.

Ronan’s naked shoulders shake with laughter. “I want to meet who has the balls to do this. Fantastique.”

“Do what?”

The entire team falls silent at my question. My brows furrow as all of them stiffen.

“Promise you’ll remain calm, Captain.” Cole blocks my view even though everyone else pulls back.

“Why do I need to remain calm?”

“Let him.” Aiden motions at Cole to move.

When he doesn’t, Xander forcibly pushes him back, muttering, “We still need you alive, dickhead.”

Inside my locker, all my team jerseys are painted in red. There’s one jersey hanging from the locker. Right above my number Ten, where my last name is usually written, ‘King’ is erased. On its behalf, ‘Manwhore’ is written in bold capital letters.

My grip tightens around the towel in a white-knuckled grip.

That fucking princess.

She’s starting to piss me off and I’m no good when I’m pissed off.

“I mean, it’s not even an insult.” Ronan laughs as he slaps an imaginary arse. “You get the best pussy out of us all. Whoever did this must be jealous.”

“Yeah, King.” Xander laughs along. “It’s not your fault that all the girls throw themselves at you. It’s an honour, am I right?”

The rest of the guys hoot and cheer, saying how they’d love to be me.

But that’s the thing about appearances, isn’t it? They all think it’s the family name, the safe funds, the face, and maybe even the talent. They think I have it all. I’m a lucky fucking bastard because all the girls want to be with me.

I cause trouble and get away with it.

I give the world the finger and I’m cheered on.